The Baron's Malady: A Smithfield Market Regency Romance

by Rose Pearson

  Her smile broadened. “But of course, my lord,” she replied, moving back towards the weevil-infested flour. “You have my word.”

  It was all he needed.

  Chapter Nine

  “And how are you today, Lady Dunstable?”

  The lady smiled back at Josephine and Josephine noticed that there was a little color in her cheeks this morning. It had been five days since she had first told Lord Dunstable that she believed his mother was on the way to a full recovery and since then, not only had Lady Dunstable improved but his sister, Miss Peters, had begun to recover also. The footmen below stairs continued to improve, to the point that one of them was already out of bed and attempting to help where he could, despite Josephine’s warnings to take his time and not put himself under any additional strain.

  “I feel a good deal more like myself, Josephine,” Lady Dunstable said, resting her head back against the pillows. “Might I get up this morning? Even for a short time?”

  Josephine hesitated for a moment but nodded. She did not know how to deal with a lady of quality wanting to rise from her bed, having only the experience of the poor and needy in the Devil’s basement back in Smithfield Market. Once they had been able enough to rise, Doctor Thomas had sent them back to their home – if they still had one – to be cared for by relatives, if they still had any. Otherwise, they were sent to one of the recovery wards, which had been set up all around London for those who had nowhere else to go but had managed to survive the fever.

  “So long as you have Gillian with you,” she said, slowly. “And so long as you return to your bed the moment you begin to feel tired. The fever will have taken your strength and you will need to build it up slowly.”

  Lady Dunstable beamed with delight at this news and Josephine felt glad for such a biddable patient. Had she told Lady Dunstable that she ought to remain abed for another day or so, Josephine knew that she would not have complained.

  “I had best to see Miss Peters.” Josephine rose to her feet, just as Lord Dunstable came in. “Do excuse me.”

  “But of course,” Lady Dunstable smiled, as Lord Dunstable came to sit by her side. “Thank you, Josephine.”

  Josephine caught Lord Dunstable’s eye for a moment and saw him smile at her, his gaze lingering for an overly long moment. Her heart quickened but she turned her head away, berating herself for such foolishness. Lord Dunstable was a baron and she nothing more than a maid, if that. Whilst it was true that they had grown close over these last, difficult days, there was nothing more to it than that. She ought not to let her heart fill with thoughts of him, not when she was to leave this house very soon.

  “Miss Peters,” she said, forcing herself to think only of her patient. “I am glad to see you sitting up this morning. How do you feel?”

  Miss Peters smiled wanly, as Gillian set aside the broth she had been feeding the lady.

  “I am a little better, I think,” Miss Peters replied, weakly. “Although I am very tired.”

  Josephine smiled gently and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “That is to be expected, Miss Peters. I –”

  “Francine, please,” Miss Peters interrupted, putting one hand over Josephine’s. “You have done so much for me that I cannot allow you to remain so proper in your address. Please, Josephine.”

  Josephine smiled happily, recalling just how upset Miss Peters had been at her arrival and finding herself grateful that Miss Peters’ opinion of her had changed so drastically. “Thank you, Francine,” she replied, pleasantly. “As I was saying, you have battled scarlet fever for some days and now, I’m afraid, it will take time for you to recover entirely. Your skin will need to be bathed and it may peel.” She saw Francine frown and felt herself grow all the more sympathetic. “I will do all I can for you to soften the discomfort,” she promised. “Your throat still aches, does it?”

  Francine nodded. “A little, but it does not burn as it once did.”

  Satisfied to hear this, Josephine let out a long breath of relief. “I am very glad to hear you say so, Francine. You are well on the way to recovery and, given that myself and Jones have not caught the fever, I would suggest that you need not fear catching it again. It seems as though having it once prevents you from having to endure it again.”

  “That is a small mercy,” Francine replied, attempting to push herself up a little more. “And how is Mama?”

  “Much better,” Josephine replied, firmly. “She will want to see you, I am sure. Perhaps tomorrow she will have enough strength to come to your room.”

  Francine nodded and smiled, a single tear trickling down her cheek. “I am so glad. Thank you, Josephine.”

  “I did not do it all,” Josephine said gently. “Your brother has worked tirelessly, as has Jones and Gillian. Everyone has been doing their utmost to ensure you and Lady Dunstable have recovered.”

  There was a moment of silence as Josephine held Francine’s gaze.

  “And yet, I think we have you to thank the most, Josephine.”

  She turned her head and caught Lord Dunstable’s eye, her stomach tightening as he came closer. She could not look away, seeing the warmth in his eyes and finding herself unable to turn away. He put one hand on her shoulder and her heart slammed against her chest, her breathing quickening just a little.

  “You are a marvel, my dear Josephine,” he said, with such tenderness that Josephine felt her face flush with heat. “You have brought my sister and my mother through the most terrible of illnesses. In time, I believe our home will return to how it once was.”

  “You mean to call the servants back?” Francine asked, breaking the moment that had been steadily growing between Josephine and Lord Dunstable.

  “In a day or so,” Lord Dunstable replied, his gaze lifting from Josephine and allowing her to breathe a little easier. “Once you are both stronger. We appear to be managing quite well, it seems.” His hand rose from Josephine’s shoulder and she stood at once, thinking to leave Lord Dunstable and his sister alone.

  “I should return to the kitchens to prepare something to eat,” she said, seeing Francine’s eyes grow heavy. “Gillian, might you go to Lady Dunstable’s side? She wishes to sit in her seat by the fire.”

  “There is no need,” Lord Dunstable said, easily. “I have helped her to her chair and she is enjoying tea and a few small biscuits I managed to unearth in the kitchen.”

  Josephine saw Gillian nod, her eyes drifting back to where Francine began to rest heavily against the pillows.

  “Mayhap you would be best remaining here, Gillian,” Lord Dunstable suggested tenderly, seeing his sister falling asleep. “I will help you, Josephine, with whatever it is you need to do.”

  She lifted one brow, trying to push away the feelings of affection that had begun to trouble her so much of late. “I need to cook and bake, my lord. Are you truly willing to attempt such a thing again?” She saw the corner of his mouth tip upwards, recalling how ineffective he had been in his efforts to help her bake a meat pie and apple pie some days ago.

  “I can wash the utensils and the like,” he suggested, offering her his arm as though she was a rich lady whom he was taking for a short stroll. “Or I can make some tea. I am sure Gillian would like some, if you do not?”

  The maid blushed and nodded and Josephine, having no other recourse but to accept his arm, did so at once. Lord Dunstable led her from the room, chatting amicably all the way as they made their way down the servant’s staircase.

  “I do not think I shall ever take my staff for granted ever again,” he said, as they reached the kitchens. “Gillian, Jones and the footmen who have remained will all have a decent increase in their wages, I think. In fact, I may raise all of their salaries, but give Gillian and Jones a little more for their devotion and dedication.”

  She smiled, finding him to be a most generous man. “I know that would be greatly appreciated, my lord.”

  Lord Dunstable made to say more but was interrupted by the butler, who appeared out of nowhere to han
d him a letter. He then took the tea tray Josephine had been preparing with the promise to take it to Gillian. Josephine could see the weariness on his face and pressed him to remain with her and take a few moments of rest, adding another teacup to the tray. Lord Dunstable muttered something under his breath, his eyes on the letter, and Jones melted away at once, leaving Josephine feeling a little ill at ease.

  “I will leave you, my lord,” she murmured, making for the door of the kitchen. “You will want to read this alone, of course.”

  His head shot up, his eyes fixed on her. “No,” he replied, with a good deal more firmness than she had expected. “No, indeed, Josephine. You are to stay. It is only a letter from a friend.”

  Breaking the seal, Lord Dunstable unfolded the letter and began to read, leaving Josephine feeling as though she were intruding, even though he had insisted she remain. Forcing her attention to the task at hand, she found all she would need to make yet more apple pies, knowing that Lady Dunstable and Miss Peters would enjoy the sweetness. Lord Dunstable would need something to eat for dinner too, of course, along with the rest of them, which meant she would have to get Gillian to help her make some kind of stew with whatever they had left in the pantry. Josephine was glad that she would soon be receiving a little more help in the form of the footmen, since they were both now recovering. The rest of the servants would be able to return soon, just as long as the fever did not touch anyone else. Silently, she sent up a prayer of thanks that she had been protected from the fever, although her heart still mourned the loss of her parents. A small smile touched her lips as she realized just how much of a healing had taken place in her own heart whilst she had been working here at the Dunstable estate. Lord Dunstable had done more than he knew, in working alongside her. There was a friendship, a kinship, growing between them and it was this that brought a joy to Josephine’s heart.

  “I should have expected nothing less.”

  Her eyes darted to Lord Dunstable as he scrunched up the letter in his hand, before slamming it down hard on the kitchen table. She jumped with surprise and looked away, her cheeks darkening red as she tried not to look at him. Whatever had been in that letter, it was obvious Lord Dunstable was not particularly happy about the contents.

  “Foolish woman!” Lord Dunstable muttered, darkly, sweeping one hand through his hair before leaning both hands on the table, his head drawing low as he drew in a breath. “There is no good reason why –”

  Josephine cleared her throat gently, wanting to remind him that she was still present in the room. It was obvious that Lord Dunstable was deeply troubled by his letter but she did not want him to say more than he ought in front of her.

  “My apologies, Josephine,” he said, after a moment. “I am just a little upset.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “I can see that, my lord,” she replied, with a small smile. “The sole reason for my interruption was simply to remind you of my presence here, when it is obviously a very private matter.”

  He snorted. “It is not of a particularly private nature,” he muttered, standing up and looking down at the crumpled up note that now lay on the table. “There is a friend of the family that shows no concern for my mother or my sister and that troubles me greatly. To have someone I thought at least cared a little for those I hold dear write to me in such a fashion has deeply upset me.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, seeing the lines of fatigue and frustration on his face. “I am sorry, my lord.”

  He did not look away, his expression growing all the more intense as they stood together in the kitchens. “You need not apologize, Josephine,” he rumbled, moving a little closer to her. “You show more compassion to my mother and sister than those I would have considered to be my friends. You have toiled in your efforts to bring them back to full health and strength, giving up so much of yourself in order to do so. You cannot know just how much I admire you.”

  Her heart leaped in her chest. Admiration? This was not something she had expected to hear from the baron, not when she was nothing more than a street beggar!

  “You are quite remarkable, Josephine,” Lord Dunstable continued, putting one hand on her shoulder in what she thought to be a gesture of support. Her heart began to hammer violently until she was sure Lord Dunstable would be able to hear it.

  “I do not think I will ever be able to find another living soul with such heart, such compassion, such tenderness, and such strength,” Lord Dunstable finished, his blue eyes darkening just a touch as he looked down at her. “I do not think I can let you return to London, Josephine. Not yet.”

  She licked her lips, suddenly nervous, finding herself moving a little closer to him as though to encourage his nearness. She did not know what it was he meant and certainly didn’t have the courage to ask him. He was standing so close to her now, standing with such a deep intensity in his gaze that she found herself almost burning with a fierce and unexpected heat. Her whole body was frozen in place, her apple pies forgotten as she looked up at him.

  “Lord Dunstable!”

  The sound of the butler’s voice seemed to jolt Lord Dunstable back to the present and Josephine felt his hand lift from her shoulder, sending an unwelcome chill all through her.

  “Lord Dunstable, some of the staff have returned!” Jones exclaimed, his eyes bright as he looked from Lord Dunstable to Josephine and back again. “We have three maids and the cook, as well as the groom, the stable boys, and two more footmen. They are all standing outside, waiting to hear whether or not they can return to the house, my lord. The news of Lady Dunstable and Miss Peters recovery must have spread!”

  Lord Dunstable’s face lit up with delight, his eyes widening just a little as he looked back at his ever-faithful butler. “Returned, you say?” he said, walking towards the servant's entrance. “Then come, Jones. Let us greet them all and welcome them back to the estate. Their presence here will be most welcome!”

  Josephine watched him go, her eyes unable to lift themselves from his form until he walked out of sight. Confusion and nervous anticipation ran through her. She did not know what it was Lord Dunstable had intended to do – if anything – but the way she felt about him was no longer able to be hidden. Her heart was flickering with affection and longing, which she both hated and accepted. To care for the lord of the house was ridiculous indeed but regardless of that, there was a hope lingering in her heart. He had not stepped away when their gazes had locked, he had not taken a step back when she had moved a little closer. Instead, he had seemed to welcome it. What did that mean? What could it mean? Or was she letting her foolish heart fill with dreams that would never come to anything?

  Chapter Ten

  Three days later and Gideon felt as though everything was slowly returning back to normal. His mother was now able to come down to the drawing room for a short part of the day and his sister, now free of the fever entirely, was able to sit by the fire in her room. Josephine had promised her that she could come down to the drawing-room herself tomorrow, once she had garnered a little more strength.

  He rubbed the velvety nose of his stallion, Hunter, and smiled to himself. Josephine was the best of women, for she had worked tirelessly and unendingly in an attempt to bring about this now happy situation. He could not thank her enough for what she had done, finding his thoughts almost always turning towards her. They had grown rather close these last two weeks and he found his heart a little painful at the thought of her returning to London.

  A sudden weakness rushed through him and he was forced to hold onto the stable door for a moment, his eyes closing tightly. Evidently, he was not the only one who required a little more rest.

  “Are you all right, my lord?”

  He opened his eyes to see one of the stable hands looking at him with concern, although Gideon noticed that the man kept his distance.

  “I am quite well,” he said, firmly. “Might you saddle Hunter? I thought to take a short ride this afternoon.”

  Hunter, as though understanding what was
said, tossed his mane and whinnied loudly, making Gideon laugh.

  “Of course, my lord,” the stable hand chuckled, going in search of a saddle. “If you’ll just give me a minute or two.”

  Gideon nodded. “Of course.” Making his way outside into the weak afternoon sunshine, he leaned back against the stable wall and let out a long breath. The letter Georgina had written him was still lingering in his thoughts, even though he had done his best to push them aside. Georgina, so foolish and so selfish, had struck his heart another blow, to the point that he was now considering their future together with great solemnity.

  The truth was, he did not want to marry Georgina. She was vapid and disinteresting, caring only for how she looked and what gowns she wore. The way that she had turned her back on not only himself but on his mother and sister had torn at his heart, for she had not so much as expressed even a single hint of interest in how his family fared.

  When he had written to her to inform her that the sickness was leaving his house and that the servants had returned, he had received nothing more than a short, rather curt, reply. She was still in London, it seemed, keeping away from all those who were ill with the fever. For whatever reason, her father had not yet sent her the carriage – which, Gideon considered, might have been because her father had not yet returned home. Thinking that his daughter was safe with Gideon, he might have lingered a while on his return to his country seat. There were plenty of inns and the like, which could entertain a gentleman for some days if he so wished. Regardless, Georgina was still in London and yet, despite the fever raging in the streets, she did not wish to see him. Rather unkindly, she had stated that even if there was a hint of fever in his household, she would not venture anywhere near. There had not been any exultations of delight over his mother and sister’s recovery, had not so much as mentioned how glad she was that Josephine had been able to bring about such a strong recovery. No, all Georgina cared about was her own safety and her own health. She had not even asked after his own health, had not once considered to see how he fared in all of this! Compared to Josephine, who so often sought him out simply to ask how he was feeling so that she might assist him in any way she could, Georgina’s selfishness burned brightly.